Am I Wrong?
by Echoless Dreamer
Summary: Everyone thought the world would end when Lord Garmadon resurfaced. Everyone thought the world would end when the Serpentine awoke. Everyone thought the world would end when the Overlord was reborn. Never, in all their years, would they have thought the world would be like this, dying at their own hands. This may be the true end. And only the next in line may save us this time.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:  
>So after everything that went down in Rebooted, I came up with this little idea here.<br>Might be the last thing I ever do in the subject of Ninjago but oh well.  
>A+ for chapters that are nothing but exposition.<br>Please remember to leave a review if you read and enjoyed, I'd like to get some feedback for the first chapter ^_^  
>*dramatic pose*<br>~Echo

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><p><em>To Whom It May Concern: <em>

_Ninjago's been at war lately. Who can blame them? It's more of just tension than a war really. Can't really say why since I don't remember what it was like before. Mom says I was only about two when the Political Divisions were formed in the first place. Yeah, I probably was. Fifteen years of peace in Ninjago and people are finally starting to crack under the pressure. We've all been through a lot. _

_There have been the rumors and ghost stories about the Overlord returning. There have been rumors about all these evils that existed before. Like scary stories you tell around a campfire and whisper in the dark to close friends. You know they don't exist, or if they did, there's nothing to fear anymore. That's what the Divisions promise. _

_They stand for peace and protection of the citizens. Almost like a council out of a fantasy novel. That's how I imagine them sometimes. In big colored cloaks, arguing about how to go about war and having intelligent conversations. Standing in a big pearly hall with glimmering jewels on the ceiling. That sounds like how it should be. Not how it is. Not televised on every screen for debates. Not on the top of every website for polls and researching. Man, I hate that. Most people don't bother listening to the debates anyways. It's always Kai and his Blacksmith Division up against the Earthdwellers. They've been a mess since their leader died about ten years ago. I mean, that's the rumors anyways. No one ever found the body, and no one's ever asked those guys any real questions. Crime's been down a lot because of them, though. It's safe to be out after dark because of them. I like them, to be honest. The Earthdwellers._

_While I don't know much about what Ninjago was before, I do know what it is now. Mom always tells me stories about ninjas and elements. I want to believe her about all of it. And I do believe some of it. Just not everything. Kai's the first name of the guy who suggested the Political Divisions in the first place. He's always in Mom's story. She calls him the ninja of fire. That, I don't doubt at all. She talks about him so fondly sometimes that I have to remind her it was like fifteen years ago. Fans never change I guess. Her stories talk about how the ninja would walk on the earth drenched in auras of elemental colors. That's great and all, but looking at this Kai guy now, he just seems like a corrupt politician to me. I bet he started out amazing though. He's handsome, I gotta give him that though. Cunning. Smart, too. He's got a silver tongue. Everyone listens when he talks all the time. It's weird, because I stop everything I'm doing to listen too and I don't even support his group. He sure knows what he's doing. _

_In another one of Mom's stories, there was a guy named Jay Walker. The only Jay Walker I ever heard of is the head of the Walker Robotics Industry. A big official businessman who knows what's up. He has a wife that I've seen, but from the looks of her she's more independent than she acts. Hey, a girl can get stuff done, too. I should know. But that's not very important at the moment. Jay Walker's a genius, I bet. That's the whole reason he's managed to keep the entire city lit through pure energy. I don't know what he studied but it's certainly working to help us. _

_There's more to that. I've found old videos online and such that say Jay was the founder of the Electric Division. Which is cool, I guess. But that Division is basically dead right now. They're supposed to have the same amount of control as every other Division, but they've recently given up on that dream of equality. Like the rest of Ninjago. Oops I wasn't supposed to say that yet. Ah, well. _

_There are a few more pieces to this story. The Snowbringer Division was named after a man named Zane, supposedly honored by the other ninjas who wanted a new order. Snowbringers have always been the nicest out of all of them, and I support them completely. Their debates are usually factual and well thought out. That's good, at least people can believe them. Then there's the Emerald Division. They're the top of the pyramid, created by the Green Ninja. I've heard a lot about him growing up. Girls love him, boys idolize him. Everyone wants to know him, but no one knows where he is now. Since he left a long time ago. _

_No one really knows where any of the ninjas are, in their mindsets at least. I mean, these guys saved us all from certain death. Basically. So why is one of them trying to take over all the divisions and the other a super successful man who doesn't really care about anything anymore. _

_The real story about all the ninjas has been passed around so many times that only eyewitnesses really know what happened. Interviewers have been trying for years to figure out exactly what happened. Ninjago's a big place full of lots of people and only a handful really know what went down before the Political Divisions existed. That's got to mean something at least. _

_Ninjago City's doing better since they changed the name back a few years ago. I was sick and tired of New Ninjago City anyways. There's not as much trouble on the streets anymore. Just a bunch of any pedestrians with nothing else to do, really. And hey, that's still something at least. _

_We have a lot more people in the bakery, at least. Mom's always talking about moving out of the city when we get the money. I'd like to go, too, but that means I wouldn't be able to keep up with the rest of the news and such. I'd like to keep up with that. I'd like to know if there was something I could do. _

_It'd be better than baking donuts and cakes for a living, wouldn't it? _

_Well that's all for now I guess. There's not much to account for. Eventually I'll get tired of this crap and get on with my life. That's much better than just sitting around doing nothing like I am right now. _

_With all the love and hate in the world, _

_Ryna_

I scratch the words into the wrinkled paper, putting so much pressure on it that I'm not surprised when I turn the page over to see backwards letters have risen up. My ink pen is running a little low today, so I shake it and kick my legs up on top of the table to get a better angle, pushing my chair backwards and onto two legs. There's mud on my socks that's mixed with a little lint from the floor in the "break room", aka a little back closet that connected to the kitchen in the bakery where I go to watch TV when Mom's not looking.

"Ryna, hon, the debate is on out here, too just come watch it in the shop!" I hear my mother yell from the kitchen. We've been open for three hours with no customers. Which is normal for a Monday, I suppose. Groaning, I swing my legs around and get up, balling up my piece of paper and tossing it into the trash box I've started. A piece of paper every day. Every day explaining something stupid. Yesterday I wrote about how to make donuts. The day before that about how annoying ponytails are. That won't stop me from wearing one, though. Nothing can stop that.

I grab the side of the doorway and swing myself around into the shop, going to sit up on my wooden stool by the cash register. The open sign is swinging a little on the door from the air conditioning. It's too cold in here, but it's too hot outside. I think we should start selling ice cream, that'd get people's attention. Or give me something to do.

The door swings open and the bell sounds, I sit up obediently on the stool, like a whistle-trained animal. A man in a straw hat steps up to the counter. There's sweat on his face and a slight smile. Even a little sparkle in his dead looking eyes. He looks older than he probably is, dressed in black and gold with symbols I don't recognize on his clothes.

"Good morning!" I say cheerily, the way I've been trained to do. He smiles.

"Is it alright if I just stand in air conditioning for a little bit? Hottest day of summer right now." He laughs. I blink a couple times before nodding. Maybe I can convince him to buy something. The man takes off his hat to reveal thick black hair, which he shakes out.

"You want something to drink?" I offer politely. The man nods, thankfully, as I hop off my stool and head to the kitchen. My mom's busy rolling up dough for bread, her black hair tucked into a hairnet and dark skin covered in flour dust, making her look like a ghost. She doesn't notice me when I grab a paper cup and fill it with cold water from the fridge. I return to my spot and present the man with the cup, which he takes and drains it in an instant.

"Not a lot of people out today, you know. Everyone else is in their own homes or work trying not to burn to death." He laughs, looking around for a trash can. I point to the edge of the counter where a silver can sits, empty. He tosses the cup over to it and makes the shot even from around the corner.

"Well we haven't had many people in here anyways. I think we should start selling ice cream here, but my ideas get shot down pretty quick." I say, trying to contribute to the conversation. He nods a little at that.

"At least you're not burning to death." The man says with a grin I notice he's got a bit of a beard going on. A goatee at least. Well kind of. I just didn't look at it before.

"I'd rather be burning than doing nothing at all." Comes my comment. The man blinks a couple times before deciding to change the subject.

"How long have you been open?" He asks, looking around the bakery. There's not much to look at. A counter with a display case of assorted foods and bottled drinks, some booths up in one corner.

"A few hours." I mutter, scratching my fingernail against the counter until I manage to make a mark in the wooden surface. The man glances back at me and puts his hat back on his head.

"Interesting name." He comments, looking at the name badge that I've positioned on the neck of my uniform. For a second, I try to read what it says before I remember it's my name. "Ryna. That's unusual."

"My mom had a thing with rhinoceroses. She really likes them so she picked a name that sounded like rhino. Pretty weird, right?" I laugh, continuing to scratch at the surface of the counter.

"Well it certainly is better than a normal name, right?" He asks, his face suddenly going completely serious. I nod slowly.

"Yeah I mean normal names are cool too." Muttering this, I begin to drum my fingers on the countertop instead of scratching it.

"Ryna, who are you talking to?" My mom pokes her flour-covered face outside of the kitchen doorway. I turn around to look at her, stifling a laugh.

"Just someone who-" I start the sentence, turning around to gesture to the man, but when I turn around he's gone and the open sign hung on the door is swinging a little more quickly than it was a few minutes ago.

The heat is getting to me. the hottest day of the year, the hottest day of summer, and now I'm imagining weird men in straw hats to have conversations with.

"Quit talking to yourself, honey, you're going to scare people away." Mom says before she ducks back inside to keep baking.

But I wasn't talking to myself. At least I don't think I was. I'm not wrong, though, someone was definitely standing there. Talking to me. Maybe I am seeing things. I need a break.

I hop off the stool and walk back into the "break room" and switch on the TV, watching as two politicians stand and oppose one another in an endless battle and rolling my eyes before changing the channel.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note;  
>Holy actual crap I have two reviews wow okay hi there you two that reviewed I love you and you deserve so many hugs!<br>So uh here's chapter two so far and still in exposition I guess. Here goes nothing.  
>Please remember to leave a review if you read and enjoyed! ^_^<br>*dramatic pose*  
>~Echo<p>

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><p>Life in the bakery gets boring a lot. It's not like there's anywhere else for me to be, though. I enjoy it. Today's a cake day, unlike yesterday, which was a bread day. Only we aren't open yet. Just me in my sweatpants and pajama top with kittens on it in the kitchen. Just my green apron and hair net, my black hair tied up in a disgusting bun as I whistle. There's been a song stuck in my head since this morning and I don't know where I've heard it from.<p>

All the lights are on and they reflect on every baking pan. I hold up a cookie tray while looking for pan, seeing my vague reflection on it. Mom never doesn't shine the cookie trays. It's so annoying but then again I'm looking especially cute today so I don't mind. I set the tray out on the counter and grab a cake pan from the cabinet, setting it up next to a bowl of cake batter that Mom had in the fridge.

It's about an hour before we're supposed to open. That's gonna put me on the clock. I pull the saran wrap off of the bowl and dip a spoon into it. Still fresh. She must have been down here not too long ago setting up shop for me. Sweet. Well she does know I like to cook at the crack of dawn...

I take a bite of the batter, and what I taste surprises me. Lemon. Nice. It's gonna make a good Bundt cake. I squat back down to the bottom cabinet and grab the proper pan, swapping it out for the other round one.

Giving the batter a little extra stir and a sprinkling in some chocolate chips from the basket of sweets in the corner, I pour it into the pan and set the oven. After a quick preheat, I pop the pan inside and close the over door with my foot. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. No pun intended.

Mom and I have lived in the apartment complex next to the bakery since I can remember. And I've probably worked there for longer. We don't even need keys anymore after the remodeling, our staircase connects directly to the shop. If I had a bigger family and some cool friends we could be a restaurant sitcom. Too bad I don't have either. Ah well, more time for cake anyways.  
>We have one of the biggest apartments with two bedrooms and one bathroom and a whole living room. Most of them only have one bedroom, aside from the family that lives across the hall from us. They have three bedrooms and two bathrooms. They also have a lot more people, three kids and two parents. The kids are super sweet and the youngest hangs out in the bakery sometimes. Maybe when I decide to go to college one day she can take over for me. That thought takes a load off my shoulders.<p>

I trample up the stairs, tripping on my sweatpants halfway up and slipping down a little before laughing at myself and climbing up into the living room. Dusting myself off, my eyes flicker around. No lights are on, thank God, Mom's still asleep most likely. I begin to tiptoe to my room to change, but I hear someone clear their throat.

"Ryna we talked about this. You can't be making food this early." My mother is standing in the doorway to the bathroom, arms folded and thick hair a mess. There are bags under her eyes, darker than the rest of her skin.

"You do it. Why can't I? Besides, I got a place to go today and wanted to do something at least." I know it's insensitive to think I'm more important than her. After all, all I've got is Mom. She sighs and waves her arms like she doesn't want any part of that argument and heads back to her room. She's already wearing her work clothes. Sorry, Mom, nobody's going to be coming in today anyways. It's the middle of summer, people have better things to do. I hate to do this to her, though. Either way, I trot back to my room and practically rip off my pants and shirt. I pull on a pair of black jeans and a purple top over my gray tank top. Much better, I nod at the mirror hung on the wall. My room isn't much. A bed, a mirror, and an assortment of clothes both in the closet and on the floor. But hey. They're mine.

My shoes are nothing but sandals and duct tape since I refuse to shop for anything other than that. Even so, I slide them on happily. I kick around some socks and shorts to find a black colored notebook. There's a pen strapped to the side with a rubber band. Whoever thought of that is a genius. Oh wait, that would be me.

Nice.

There's another news story on our TV in the living room, talking about the drought that's going on in Ninjago. It's nice to see some people notice. I tune in and out for the length of the show and it must have run at least three hours before I decide I'm bored enough to leave.

I head out when Mom's not looking, sliding past her and down the steps, out the door and onto the streets. It's too hot for human life right now but I didn't feel like wearing shorts and showing off my legs today. My notebook is tucked underneath my arm as I weave through a stream of people in shorts and short-sleeved shirts of pale color. All of them seem in no hurry to get anywhere, but I head down the sidewalk.

The walk to wherever it is that I'm going is a long one. Turn right on a few streets, pass a few people with umbrellas, see some people fanning themselves, some others just lounging around. Eventually, though, I manage to find a place to sit and squish myself onto a bus bench in the shade. This isn't much better, but it's better than nothing. I whip out the notebook and pen.  
>It's literally just an old composition notebook with pages torn out. There's not that many left either, but even so I uncap the pen and start writing.<p>

_To Whom It May Concern:_

_Ninjago's currently in the biggest drought it's been in for years. It's always hot nowadays. Of course there are people who blame the atmosphere and humans and whatnot, I just think we as a race are getting hotter. That's a very stupid assumption, really. Sorry about most of my other letters being so serious and this one not so much, at least I'm trying something. _

_I know for a fact that a lot of people are going to come down with heat stroke, considering it's like being in an oven right now, always hot and sticky. So few places can even afford an air conditioner anymore. Not that that really matters at all, only it should help that Mom had one installed before the drought hit. We still bake as normal though, since we make a decent income every week and can afford the little extra the water bill is. _

_The year round private schools have also been closed, I've heard. A little different than being open all the time like always, I'd think. Those poor children are going to have a lot of homework, though. I feel kind of bad for them, though. Both because of the heat and because of the homework. Thankfully school's over for me until the fall, and I might not go back. Staying to work in a paying job is a very important thing in today's world. And I have a paying job. Most people either do or don't. _

_The debates are getting more intense, if you'd like to know about those. Last night, the Snowbringers wanted to discuss a law enforcing that every citizen be required to take a survey to better improve the knowledge of what was happening among the common grounds where the rich don't exist. That last part was a bit of an exaggeration. Hey, I could be a great politician. But the Emerald Division didn't want to fold anyways. They want to keep privacy for everyone. Earthdwellers are on the fritz yet again. They're going to fall apart, and that's terrifying. They enforce public law and keep the police together and they even manage safety of the individual. If they fall, the individual welfare goes to the Blacksmiths. We can't deal with what would happen. No one wants to know what's going to happen. _

_I'll tell you a secret if you can keep it. I'm more of an adult than I am the teenager I'm supposed to be. And I'm scared of what's going to happen. All the tension, all the anger. I'm scared. I'm just a baker I can't deal with this. So, whoever you are, I hope you're not alive to deal with this. _

_With all the love and hate in the world;_

_Ryna_

Short letter today. This pen writes in a red ink, unlike the black ballpoint I had been using yesterday. I blink and rip out the page, balling it up and tossing it out into the street, feeling satisfied when it gets crunched by a passing fire truck. Fire truck. One with sirens blaring and ambulances on its tail. All wailing simultaneously and ferociously at me to follow.  
>That's the street I came from when I walked here. My heart starts to drop immediately. I throw the notebook down onto the sidewalk and break into a sprint, chasing the sirens immediately after I hear them. Bumping into passersby and people going the same way as me. Nobody bats an eye and the girl running and panting, but I'm worried. This is the exact route I took to get here. It's a big city but the roads aren't all the same. There are little differences that you notice. Little things. Little things that I don't want to lose because of what I'm sure is happening.<p>

The sirens get louder with every step I take until I turn one last corner and every horror running through my mind erupts at once. The entire apartment complex and surrounding shops are glistening in bright red flames. All around the street and everything else is blocked off and flooded with bystanders and people doing their best to help out. There's a knot in my throat, but I take off in a burst of energy, searching the entire crowd for Mom. At first I don't see her, but then I spot a green apron and a wad of thick hair that's singed at the top. She's okay.

Some of the firemen are yelling to each other. There are still people inside. There are still people in danger of death. Looking up, I see the top layer of the building beginning to crack and crumble. If no one does anything then the entire complex is going to fall. I bend down and roll up my pant legs before charging the line of firefighters and dashing straight into the burning area.

All at once the atmosphere is different. I thought I knew true heat before, but this is thick melting heat coated in smoke and ashy remains of chairs and couches. But I know the layout by heart even with the clouds in my eyes and the coughs erupting from my lungs that weigh me down. I can't do this. I should get out and let the professionals handle this. But who am I if I came this far and did nothing. I silence the yelling I hear outside, even the sound of my mother screaming my name for me to come out.

The stairs are somehow still intact with heavy clumps of ash on the surface of each step, but still I force myself upwards. There aren't that many floors. It'll be okay. The door frames are all empty on the second floor, full of flames that reach out for me, but I walk through uncaringly, arm over my mouth and nose so I can at least breathe a little better. The sound of crying can barely be heard over the roaring of the fires and crumbling of bricks and plaster.

I stumble around, choking on air and coughing up everything I can to the back of the hall where the windows are nonexistent and any hope of safety would be stupid. The cries are from a woman and a child, pinned under a beam and soaked in dirt and glass. My body is already so weak and so tired, but even so I stagger over and try to lift the beam off of them. I just can't. I'm not strong enough. But I fall onto my knees and try to force it up.

The smoke gets thicker and thicker, there's so little I can do, so little I can do. I can't help anyone. I'm not worthy. That might be the last thing I think, feeling flames all around me feet and clothes. Last chance, I decide, and do my very best to lift off the heavy beam one last time.

Something different happens this time. There's no more pain. the roof starts to cave in and I hear the woman scream, but somehow I hold it up. I'm not weak, all of a sudden I'm strong. It doesn't feel like adrenaline, I don't know what it is, but I kick the beam over with ease, holding up the caving bricks with ease. The woman grabs her child and frantically scrambles away. I would smile at this, but everything moves in slow motion. My eyes move downwards to see my feet and legs, which, along with the rest of me, are cloaked in an earthy textured aura.

This has never happened before. I'm glowing. I'm strong. I'm terrified and weak and shaking but I'm glowing and I'm strong. My lips quiver as I let go of the area of the roof and turn and run. My legs shake and my lungs scream, but my body knows what to do. It's not as scared as it should be. As I should be.

I tumble down the stairs, but the pain is nonexistent, feeling everything in a blurry notion that I don't know how to control.

A stream of water pierces around where the door should be and the flames there die down. So does the feeling of blurriness and rushing. I clamber outside, staggering and shaking. But I'm okay.

A paramedic runs up to me and wraps me in a blanket and asks me if I'm alright. I nod my head and smile a little, trying to be cheery, but then I turn and look back. The roof is gone, caved in, windows covered in ash and soot. The bakery doesn't look as bad though, and my mother is busy over there asking everyone if they're okay. I cough a little bit, but the paramedic is long gone, checking on people with burns and ash in their lungs most likely. I collapse onto my knees staring down at the street.

"I knew there was something different about you." A voice above me says. I look up, heavy eyes locating a man wearing all black and a straw hat. His dark eyes are glistening again, thick black hair dripping into his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" I choke out. The man kneels so that he can see eye to eye with me for a minute.

"I'm not just a crazy man, Miss Ryna." He begins. Nobody's ever called me 'Miss' before. It's incredibly weird for me to hear. "You weren't born to be a baker. You're part of something bigger than all of us. I know, I was in your shoes once. I wasn't always some crazy guy and I know you have no reason to trust me but you just lifted a roof off of a woman and her son and held it up so they could get out and didn't get a single scratch. If you don't think you're special at all, then you must be the crazy one. There's a tale older than Ninjago itself. No doubt you've heard it whispered, but it's all true. Everyone knows the story but few get to live it. So, what'll it be, Miss Ryna? You can go back to that bakery and waste everything that this world has worked for, or you can come with me and train yourself for the war that's coming." He says it so fluently, standing up and offering me his hand. I reach up and take it and he pulls me to my feet. "Strong hands, for a baker." He comments. I blink and look down at my palms. They aren't scratched at all, they're not even bruised. Should they be?

"Look, sir...or whatever...I don't even know who you are and my house just burned down. Why would I listen to you?" I retort back, voice shaky.

"You're not like them, Ryna. Neither am I. The Divisions are going to war, you know that, don't you?" I'm not sure who he thinks he is, but he's smart. "At least think about it, why don't you?" My eyes switch from glaring at the man to staring at my feet when I'm suddenly tackle hugged by my mother. She doesn't say anything, but there's a smile on her face. The man awkwardly takes a step back into the crowd for a minute, but I don't take my eye off him.

"You're okay!" My mom yells.

"I'm fine, are you okay? Is the bakery okay? Is everyone okay?" I stammer out to her. All of these questions are followed by nods.

"I've been saving up to move for weeks now, and collecting a little insurance on the bakery will let me remodel it and everyone else who lived in the complex is almost glad that this happened. People finally getting out of those dumpy places and getting a new place." Her smile is soft and sad, but there's also so much happiness in it. I'm glad she's okay. Suddenly she goes serious and angry. "But don't you ever run into a fire like that I did not raise an idiot!" She screeches before hugging me again and then releasing me when a paramedic walks over and asks to double-check her burns again. A burn on her hand. That's not too bad. It could have ended up a lot worse for everyone.

"Did you think about it?" The man is back standing next to me.

"Yeah." I mutter. "It's better than this, I guess. Could I maybe get an address or something to tell my mom?" My eyes stay plastered to the scene in front of me. It's not tragic at all, no deaths, not that many injuries. So why do I feel so upset?

"Sure. If you want I can talk to her. By the way, my name is Cole." The man says, walking over to my mother and the medic attending to her. The last sentence he said was spoke really softly, and I wouldn't have been able to hear it if not for the silence that had begun to fall on the crowd.

My mom's story about elements starts to make a little more sense. Kai, the leader of the Blacksmiths, used to be in touch with the element of fire. I know that. Jay Walker used to be lightning. The man named Zane was in touch with the element of ice. A man named Lloyd was once an emerald warrior. And there was one other that time has begun to forget. A man with connections to earth. His name was ironic, I always thought, hearing those stories as a child. Cole. He saved my mother's life once. I remember that story. A ninja of earth who protected her city when they needed it most. So he was the man she spoke so fondly of. They had never even officially met, but there they are, speaking like they've known each other all their lives. It's scary, to me at least.

Even scarier to think I'm not just a speck in a universe without any point to it. I matter. I'm important. That's scary too. I'm supposed to be a mature young adult, not a child wrapped in a blanket quivering for my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:  
>welp here I am again, with more exposition for you few readers out there o3o<br>Also THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING NOW LET ME HUG YOU *clears throat* uh *coughs* what nothing i mean...  
>All questions shall be answered in time! But stories aren't built in a day and neither are characters so just sit back and take your time ^_^<br>Please remember to leave a review if you read and enjoyed! :D  
>*dramatic pose*<br>~Echo

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><p>My mother has never been one for long, heartbreaking goodbyes. I'm glad about this, too. It's easier on everyone and easier on me. I don't have to feel like a burden and there's no tears or wavering voices like how she does when I make a big fuss about where I go. Why should this be any different for either of us? I was planning to leave and go to college at the end of next year, but it's not like I'd have anything to come back to besides a little bigger knowledge on spices and culinary arts and what not. Nothing would change even if I did go. Maybe a fresh perspective and a chilly goodbye will be good for me.<p>

However, Mom's always been a little suspicious of everything, and insists on getting more information from the man in the straw hat. Every question she asks he counters. They argue like they've been doing it forever. As though they know exactly how to beat the other. Their personalities conflict very well. Mom's always been like that.

The crowd from the fire has already died off and everyone who needed to be hospitalized is long gone. I'm more concerned about where we'll be spending the night than about anything else at the moment. I've also been wondering about how the fire started anyways. It was probably my fault. I probably left the oven on too long and Mom didn't notice it until it was too late. Which makes it all my fault. It's okay, nobody was severely hurt. Just a lot of smoke and a lot of burns. But I saved someone. But I wouldn't have had to do so if I wasn't such an idiot.

My fingers itch to write and smell the ink from the pens. I need to write this down before it's gone. While all the thoughts are still fresh in my head. But I stand and watch my mom and the man named Cole counter each other in a simple argument. It's interesting. Mom's usually too friendly, not so protective of me. But I know she's going to say yes. She always does.

"You can't teach my daughter to fight, I don't even know who you are!" Mom's being unreasonable again. It's too unreasonable. But if he was going to hurt either of us he would have done so by now. And I trust him somewhat. Enough to decide he's telling the truth.

"I'm not going to teach her to fight, I'm going to teach her to defend." His words are forced, not angered, but so calm. Almost like he's said it a thousand times. It's saddening. They keep on like that and don't even bother to notice I'm standing right next to them.

"Ryna is a baker, she is not a...a...a martyr for you to just let her die because of another war you ninja claim are coming." A martyr. I didn't ever think of it that way. That's what the ninja were, weren't they? Just sacrifices that never died. They threw away their lives to protect the peace and everyone else. That's the choice they made.

It's the choice I have to make, too. It's not about me at all, really. The only reason that I even survived that fire is because something protected me. does that mean I have to become like the black haired man? Strong with light eyes and a pure smile but looking so dead inside. I'd be dead inside too if I were like that, like the way the story goes.

There are only two versions of the tale I remember from school. Kids in the high school always passed them down to us elementary kids at the time. Whispers made it all the way down the social grape vine to little kids with squished juice boxes and dirt on their faces who over exaggerated everything. From the little kids, you would get stories about monsters and these brave boys who stopped them. From the middle school students, you would get tales of woe and love, heartbreak and war, girls would talk in a fantasy type sense and such about beautiful boys stuck in terrible situations. From the high school students, you didn't hear much. They didn't care as much as everyone else did. I suppose, after time, they had stopped believing in the magic that everyone was so sure existed. Not magic, some would say, patting me on the head when I would ask. Elements, they would explain to me in a calm voice.  
>Elements, they'd say. Golden weapons formed in fire, earth, ice, and lightning. Beautiful blades and tools of creation, they'd say. I liked to see the sparkle in their eyes when they'd tell the story. Long before time had a name, there was just a man on a lonely mountain. That's how some would start. Long before time had a name, there was just a man and the elements, alone in the world. So he crafted them into golden weapons and used them to shape Ninjago all alone. His sons carried this out until the oldest was corrupted. You never heard much about him. Always the good child that they'd talk about. The one who no one bothered to talk about was the one who was poisoned by darkness. Does it make sense? None of the stories add up anymore, to be honest. But I know the good child went on to revive the talents of his father and his elements. I've heard that the ninjas were the bearers of truth, the bringers of harmony. That, I might believe.<p>

"Ryna, pay attention." My mother's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. The blanket is no longer on my shoulders, I notice. It's slipped down to around my arms and exposed my neck. The top of my shirt is a little charred, so I pull the blanket back up.

"Yeah?" I ask quietly, trying not to get involved in the situation.

"What do you want to do with your life?" Mom says to me, her eyes darting to the man in the straw hat. He folds his arms and sends her a soft look before turning to me.

"Something...baking is cool and all but I mean if I don't do something then I basically wasted everything doing something I didn't really love and I'm making no sense I'll stop talking now." My voice gets quieter and quieter until it trails off completely. I want to figure out what that aura was around me. I want to learn more about the ninjas. I want to know what's really going on in Ninjago. I want to know why there's going to be a revolution. I want to know what's going to happen next for me. but I don't know any of that.

"You were born for better things, Ryna. Not that there's anything wrong with baking or owning a store. You deserve to do something incredible with your birthright." The man named Cole states firmly. My mother's face looks almost defeated, but still a little angered. She was going to give in anyways.

"If you want to go off with a crazy old man, go ahead. I support your decision." She says it so sweetly, and it earns a hug from me.

"I'm not crazy...and I'm not that old either..." Cole mutters, half to himself, half out loud.

My mother's gaze to the man in the straw hat isn't pained. It's trusting and strong as she extends her hand for him to shake. He does, and for a moment an unspoken pact is made. And it's about me. Return her safe. That's what my mother's eyes read. I promise I will. That's what his eyes read. Both drop the handshake at the same time, and I get one last crushing hug from my mother and a reminder about what the shop's phone number is.

So that's it, then. I'm now officially traveling with an insane man all by myself. He tells me to follow and I do, obediently. Do I know where he's walking? No. Do I care enough to ask? Not really. The blanket that was wrapped around me has been abandoned on the ground and I turn back, tripping forwards a little as I do so, watching it on the ground. So that's really it, then.

"Ryna." His voice isn't very strict, it's more of trying to get my attention again. I turn back ahead and the man is already very far up the street. Sighing, I trot up beside him. How is he so fast? I don't know. "We're leaving the city, alright?" He asks. I've never left the city. Never once. I really wanted to before but never had a real reason. Is this even a real reason? No, not really.

"On foot?" I ask, not seeing any immediate mode of transportation. He nods, slowly.

"Think you can handle that?" The man's voice sounds challenging as he folds his arms again. I clench my fists and stand up straight, still feeling a little outmatched since he's taller than me.

"Yeah I can handle anything." Comes my remark, a smirk on my face. Cole nods respectively.

"That's the attitude."

* * *

><p>Okay I was wrong. I was very, very wrong. I cannot handle anything at all. Ninjago City is surrounded in deserts that span a decent ways. In one direction, there are mountains and snow caps. In the other, there are rocky beaches. In another, there are forests and birch wood trees. Thankfully, we're headed in none of those directions and straight out into the spanning rocks that burn with heat and scarcely any shade. I was very wrong.<p>

The afternoon grows deeper into evening, and I struggle to climb the edges of the rugged mountain areas that this man has dragged me to. He's gone on ahead, leaving me to figure this out by myself. endless scraping with my finger nails, stretching my legs and arms until they're sore and tired. There's sweat on my face, hair matted and barely tied up anymore. My clothes have been covered in dirt since we left the city. My body aches and demands something to eat, but I have nothing to offer it. Just keep climbing, I tell myself as I grope around for a place to put my shaking hands. One trial after another, I guess.

After the sunsets, I'm still climbing the edges of the mountainside, looking out from ledges as I stop to rest. The world is so far away from me that I can't help but stare. There's so much out there. Even from this standpoint, so far away and so secluded, I can still se the flickering lights of the buildings in Ninjago city. A strange spectrum of reds and whites, even a few purple and bright green thrown in that light up on the horizon. I stop every few minutes and gaze out into the desert areas, but I always keep going. If I keep going, I can make it before the stars shine through.

That's a good thought, and as I start nearing the top, I see a hand reach out for mine. And out of desperation and tiredness, I grab it and am yanked up onto solid ground. A mountaintop with no rises and dips and curves. My body tells me to collapse onto the ground, and I do. But not before the black haired man named Cole congratulates me for making it to the top. I try to ask where in the world we're going, but my voice is hoarse. He gets the basis of a sentence though, and turns my head around to face what's to my right. Not another cliff, not a tip, but instead...something I can't quite put into words. I feel my eyes widen and my body instantly feels like it's floating, pulling me to my feet.

A beautiful gate stretches in a circle, golden doorknob and knocker. Tens or dancing dragons inscribed into the beautiful red wood it is made from. It's huge, towering over me, but I can't help but reach up to touch the gate feeling the smooth surface and all it's beauty. I'm sure that Cole sees the wonder in my eyes, since he has to gently pull me away from the door so he can open it.

The inside tells me what it is. A monastery, almost. Signs of old languages lost decorate the insides of the gate, stone pathways that don't quite belong with the earth terrain. This is just a front yard, it seems, what with another building attached to it that I can see. That building looks more like a house, calm and beautiful. Old fashioned with red and golden stripes. There's a smoky essence to the place that makes me think.

And in the midst of all this, I hear a voice yell something, coming from behind me. and then there's another person who comes running from the depths of the home, pushing straight past me and tackling Cole in a forced hug.

It's another girl. She looks a little younger than me, maybe by a year, maybe she's older than me. her hair is flamboyant and red, giving off it's own glow almost. He pries her off and holds her shoulders with a stern look before he takes off his hat and plops it on her head. The girl turns to look at me. Her skin is tan, a deep tan, but not as dark as mine. The complexion of her face is near perfect, but when she grins at me politely, there are two crooked canine teeth that look as if they want to say hello to me. Her eyes are a startling blue. Electric blue, in fact.

"Ali, this is Ryna. Ryna, this is my other pupil, Ali. You'll be working with her from now on." Cole says, his voice sounding tired and his eyes looking very sunken without that straw hat on his head. Ali, as she has been dubbed, is dressed in a black uniform that I've seen martial artists wear. It's tired with a black rope, and I can see the edges of a blue tank top she's wearing underneath it where the sleeves slip downwards.

"Hi! Where did Sensei find you?" She asks happily as the black haired man staggers through the yard and into the home in the back.

"Oh uh in Ninjago City?" I try. Ali laughs and grabs my arm, pulling me through the courtyard and into the wooden house as well. It is, as I expected, bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. The interior is well designed, floorboards fitting an older fashion, and even sliding doors. Almost straight out of a history book. Ali, however, drags me into a room that I'm somewhat familiar with. A kitchen connected to a dining room. This, I am okay with. Ali shoves me onto a seat and takes the opposing one. There's a spilled cup of tea with a tea bag inside. I'm guessing she spilt it a little while ago.

"So really. Where did Sensei find you at? How'd he find you?" She sure asks a lot of questions.

"Well, first he showed up at the bakery I worked at. And then he vanished. And then there was a fire and I lifted up a roof and th-" Ali interrupts me before I can finish my thought.

"There was a fire where you were too? Man, I bet everyone's gonna hafta deal with a crisis! So your name's Ryna, right? That's a cool name. Ali's just a nickname but I'd rather be called that than Alexandra! So don't ever call me that. Is Ryna a nickname or is that your real name?" This chick doesn't know how to take a hint either. I start to tune out of her conversation, but I think she sees this and stops talking as fast. "You wanna know why we're here anyways?" The girl asks, seemingly calmed down.

"Yes please someone tell me I don't get it!" I practically scream it before she slaps a hand over my mouth and holds a finger up to her lips to say quiet down.

"There's gonna be some kind of revolution. Sensei Cole saw it. There's this thing that's called spirit smoke. Tells the future in visions. He saw it. There's even a painting in one of the back rooms that he's been working on for days. He added a new figure to it yesterday so I figured that someone else was gonna show up eventually. And here you are!" Ali says it so happily, clapping her hands together and starting to tell another story.

Apparently, she had been living with her father and stepmother and attending school regularly, even in the summer. She wasn't rich, and supposedly is a super genius, but I doubt that. Doesn't seem like something that would be true based on what I've seen so far. And one day, she went on to say, that she ran into a very kind man on the street when she tripped and dropped all her folders. She says that later she was working in the chemistry lab and accidentally started an electrical fire. Ali then begins a tale about a blue aura all around her, and then the man in the straw hat had come to her again and rescued her from the flames. Her story continues until she gets to a point when she stops talking.

"So what's your talent?" She asks me finally. My talent. Ali obviously has a connection with the science side of life. Her electric blue eyes tell me the obvious. Lighting and sparks and maybe even energy. She's so peppy, so happy. She's supposed to be a warrior, but what am I?

"I had so much strength. It just happened. I didn't get it at all..." Ali's eyes are wide and full of kindness, just like her crooked smile.

"Sounds like Sensei Cole. He's so strong. I bet if you ask tomorrow, he'll show you something before he sets out again. Gotta find the other two, am I right?" She nudges me jokingly, but all I can do is blink. Other...two? two more? I think my confused expression asks the question for me. "You really don't know, do you?" Ali's eyes scan the room and she turns her head to look at the doorway. "Sensei's probably asleep by now. He sleeps a lot lately. But we can't have a team with just two, right? Always four ninjas!" She claps her hands again, showing off her crooked teeth in another smile. Four ninjas. So that's it then. We're the replacements. No. not the replacements. We're the next ones, I guess. At least Ali seems to think so.

When I start to nod off because of her constant talking, she helps me stand up and leads me to a room with a bed inside. Just for me, she tells me. Her eyes look a little broken but she tells me goodnight and closes the door behind me.

My only hope is that she can do a better job of explaining all this to me. why are we here? Why is this important? Why does a revolution matter so much?  
>And all at once it comes to me as I collapse onto the bed and curl into myself. The leaders of the Political Divisions were the ninjas. Two are supposed to be dead. But one called dead is most certainly alive. One is corrupt. The other unforgiving and changed. The last living in peace and having nothing to do with this. The world has changed them. So are we the replacements? We can't be. That's not what the world would allow. We'd be the next in line, training at the hands of the masters, not training to defeat them. That's it isn't it? We take down those who oppress what they once stood for. That's what this all comes down to. The sense of right and wrong that I have tells me this is something I need to do. It's right. I need to defend this world. I need to be something more than a baker who can't do anything right. I need to be more that just a girl who scribbles her life away in a torn up notebook I had left out on the sidewalk in the scorching heat of summer.<p>

I need to be a ninja. It's something I can do for Ninjago. It's something I can do for Cole, who needs someone to take on this role. It's something I can do for my mother and for the trust she has placed in me. I need to do this. Not just for me, but for everyone else, too.


End file.
